


the suffering of miya atsumu

by kunimi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Relationship, Humor, Japan National Team, M/M, Timeskip, also i’m on sakusa’s side. osamu hot. i feel u kiyoomi, another game of spot the background ship! dhskdhsksj, atsumu calls suna a war criminal and maintains he is right, atsumu’s thirst tweets are the fucking worst. i would block him too, clownery, the universal truths are that atsumu is a clown. osamu hot. sakusa horny. miya twins bffs, there's a lot of msby4 ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi
Summary: Worst of all, however, is what emerges from Sakusa’s mouth.“I want him to fold me in half,” he murmurs. To his credit, he seems like he’s saying it more to himself than anyone else. On the other hand, he still said itout loud.About Atsumu’sbrother.Inpublic.Atsumu takes back any shit he ever yelled at Suna in the Inarizaki group chat about them being the worst team ever because Suna stole all his ramune candy or whatever; those fuckers seem likesaintsconsidering what shit MSBY is putting him through. Fucking hell.or: five times omigiri drove atsumu to madness, and one time they didn't.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Miya Atsumu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 241
Collections: HQ!! Writers Valentine's Weekend, 🐶🍙 omigiri fanfic collection





	the suffering of miya atsumu

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentines day omigiri nation! i'm posting this from a bar so i'll update the note a little later when i'm home but!! stan omigiri ♥️✌🏽
> 
> also written for the writers' server valentines weekend, loosely for the prompts _falling in love_ (day one) and _proposals_ (day three)
> 
> major thanks to everyone (omigiri server, xavi & mars for beef/tiddy discourse, relle, kou & airy for my struggle with tenses + bokuto bg ship thoughts) who had to deal with me chaotic asking for an opinion over the last little bit! i wrote the vast majority of this in the three hours before posting bc i really wanted to get it out while it was valentine’s day somewhere so some was written on my phone, which, honestly, just matches the energy of this fic. chaos reigns

**1.**

It all starts with Bokuto.

“Hey, Omi-Omi, are you wearing Tsum-Tsum’s hoodie?” he asks, apropos of fucking _nothing_ , while Atsumu is just trying to smack the microwave into submission. Normally, he would trust kitchen appliances and never use force with them, but Bokuto does not share his philosophy and has smacked the stupid thing so many times that it now doesn’t even start without being whacked.

Honestly. He loves his team, but some of them are not fit to leave the dorms.

He registers Bokuto’s question mid-smack, though, and almost chokes on his own tongue, whipping his head over to stare at Sakusa on the couch, who is peering down at the crossword Hinata is working on.

Well. He was doing that. Now he’s looking at Bokuto with an expression of disgust. It’s a little hurtful, actually, although, like, _yeah_ , Atsumu fuckin’ agrees.

“I would rather burn my entire wardrobe,” Sakusa says flatly, because of who he is as a person – prickly Omi-kun, like a flexible cactus; one time he said as much to Osamu, whose face went through like nine different expressions in response before settling on an eye roll.

“Rude!” Atsumu hollers from the kitchen, but again. He agrees. Well. He wouldn’t burn his clothes before wearing something of Sakusa’s, because he likes his clothes, but it’s a close call.

He’s curious about why Bokuto thinks that, though. Luckily for him, his question is answered.

“Oh. Isn’t that the same hoodie he has, though?”

Unluckily, that’s the response.

“People sometimes have the same clothes, Bokkun,” Atsumu starts saying, even though he doubts he and Sakusa have the same taste, because Sakusa’s stay-at-home clothes are hoodies and sweatpants, whereas Atsumu’s can most accurately be described as ‘whatever will draw Kageyama’s attention to his bare stomach if he’s lucky’. But, well, what other explanation is there? “That doesn’t mean - ”

“But it’s an Inarizaki hoodie,” Bokuto says, and _that_ stops Atsumu in his tracks. Forget turning around to look at them; he abandons his ramen to the whims of their temperamental microwave and whirls on his heel to turn and walk back into the living room proper to see for himself.

“Yeah, isn’t that the kanji for Miya too?” Hinata asks.

Sakusa glares daggers at him, but Atsumu feels faint. Mostly because he really doubts Sakusa would ever be caught dead in his room to steal his shit anyway – Sakusa, thankfully, has no interest in his belongings nor his personal space – plus he has a feeling his one is buried in Kageyama’s laundry basket, fuck knows how many miles away, but for a moment, he genuinely wishes the answer was that it was his hoodie and Sakusa was seized by a fit of madness and nicked it.

Because the other option is...

“Wait, if it’s not Tsum-tsum’s...” Bokuto says, crinkling his nose.

“You and _‘Samu?!”_ Atsumu demands. He needs to sit down. And maybe throttle his twin for apparently railing his teammate and not fucking breathing a word of it to Atsumu, what the shit. _What the shit._

“I was cold,” Sakusa says, as if that’s any explanation at all.

“What the fuck,” Atsumu says, which he feels is eloquent, given the situation. Sakusa’s expression makes it look like he disagrees.

“Ooh, how long have you and Myaa-saam been seeing each other?” Bokuto asks, lighting up.

Sakusa tilts his head, like he’s giving this some thought. “I’m not sure we technically are,” he says after a moment.

Before Atsumu can explode – this is _worse_ , because if they’re dating then at least they’re _dating_ , you know, all that entails, they’ve got shit on lock, but this nebulous area where they are apparently not definite enough that _Sakusa_ _Kiyoomi_ , most direct person Atsumu knows, can’t label it but close enough that he has _Osamu’s high school hoodie_ and feels comfortable wearing it to _relax?_ Atsumu is going fucking insane – the microwave beats him to it, letting out a BANG! and filling the space with the scent of burning noodles and electric fires.

Atsumu can’t even be surprised. It’s a fitting addition to his night.

**2.**

Listen. Atsumu’s a good person, all right? He doesn’t deserve this.

In the back of his head, Suna starts listing off all his extensive character flaws and issues he has caused. _Fuck off,_ he thinks back, but his brows furrow and his lower lip drops into a bit of a pout. Okay, so, maybe a _good_ person is a stretch sometimes, but he’s at least not a _bad_ person. He’s, like, at _least_ 60% acceptable. An acceptable person. Atsumu will take it.

He certainly doesn’t deserve _this_.

In fairness, he’s not sure even Suna would deserve this, and Atsumu has called him a war criminal on multiple occasions for his crimes against Atsumu (including, but not limited to, stealing his fucking candy, stealing Ginjima’s loyalty from him – shut up, ‘Samu, Atsumu doesn’t care if they’re _dating_ , what matters is that Atsumu had always been able to rely on Ginjima to be his most trustworthy teammate but then he went and gave the devil permanent access to his ear, what the fuck, _betrayal_ – and stealing Atsumu’s phone in order to wreak havoc on Atsumu’s life and carnage on his reputation as Resident Hot Fashionable Athlete via Instagram live), so. That’s really saying something.

But as egregious and countless as Suna’s crimes are – he ignores the version of Suna flipping him off in the back of his head – Atsumu would still never wish such a fate as this on him.

Such a fate as this, in this case, means being stuck in a van with his brother, half his team and more onigiri than even Bokuto’s friend Shirofuku could eat in one sitting.

They’re all headed off to a MSBY event, one which Osamu agreed to cater for the first time ever, which – Atsumu would _never_ admit it, but he was pretty excited to get to eat his brother’s food and have his brother there all night.

At least, he _was_ until they all piled into the van Osamu was borrowing from their parents to transport all the shit and Atsumu got stuck in the _back_. In the _middle_. As in, _between_ Bokuto Koutarou, man built of beef and tiddy, and Hinata Shouyou, who is only a ninja in how quick he moves, because there is absolutely _no_ way anyone could miss him right now with how much space he and his (as Hinata quite proudly showed them a video of a drunk Hoshiumi announcing to _an entire bar_ , fucking hell, why is the entire national team a menace to society) “thicc ass” are taking up.

Atsumu feels like he’s having the life – or at the very least, his ribs – squeezed out of him by Japan’s favourite walking smiles and their fuck-off huge torsos. Unbelievable.

All this because ‘Samu – _‘Samu!_ His twin, his best friend (don’t tell him), the person who has always been by his side, the person he’ll be able to rely on forever – had said, when everyone was trying to decide seating arrangements (read: Bokuto was offering to sit in the middle, Sakusa was wrinkling his nose and saying _no_ in the firmest tone he could muster, and Atsumu was tuning out the negotiations with the smug confidence of someone certain he’d be given shotgun), with a careless shrug, “Sakusa gets shotgun.”

Everyone’s eyes had snapped up to look at Osamu – Atsumu’s with _extraordinarily_ righteous betrayal; Bokuto’s with a gleeful beam, nudging Sakusa in the side excitedly; Hinata’s with a decisive nod, as if that was a helpful decision whatsoever, what the fuck, Shouyou-kun; and Sakusa’s, maybe most shockingly, were accompanied by lightly flushed cheeks. His eyes hadn’t strayed from Osamu’s, not even when Bokuto’s nudging got into jostling territory, and there had been a searching look in them, one which Osamu had met calmly.

Honestly, if Atsumu hadn’t been so appalled by the turn of events, he might have found it something cute to tease them over.

However.

As Bokuto chatters to Hinata about how he’s pretty sure Kuroo’s coming tonight, Atsumu gets the full weight of Bokuto pressing down on his side as he leans forward to catch what Hinata’s saying better – on one hand, they could roll up the windows; on the other, then they’d all have to _smell_ the effect of all of them being smushed in the backseat of a van together, and Atsumu cares too much about his presentation for that – and an endless stream of _gwaaaaaah!_ in his other ear as Hinata describes what doing parkour with Hoshiumi is like. At this point, Atsumu isn’t even entirely sure they’re participating in the same conversation, or just shouting about things that make them excited at each other.

Meanwhile, up front, Atsumu can see that Sakusa’s acting a little more… _engaged_ than usual. Atsumu can’t even count how many times the team has had to travel, even a short distance, and Sakusa immediately put on an eye mask, headphones and a general demeanour of _do not talk to me if you value the well-being of your eyelids._ This time, however, he’s sitting upright, and his eyes are intent – on the road, on the clock, on Osamu.

Almost always on Osamu.

Atsumu watches, dumbfounded, as Sakusa’s eyes rest on Osamu’s face as his brother focuses on the road – as Sakusa’s brow furrows, like he’s trying to decide what to do with himself – as Sakusa’s hand inches hesitantly near Osamu’s on the gearshift, ghosting it, like he might lace their fingers together –

Atsumu snaps his eyes away. They may be his brother and teammate, and he maintains he has the right to mock them for literally anything they fucking do, but something about the precipice of the moment feels too intimate to watch.

He pulls out his phone instead, scrolls through his photos. Feels his mouth tugging up at the corners at what is probably the _worst_ selfie he has ever seen – Ushijima is taking it, and he looks extremely focused as his forehead takes up a quarter of the screen; Kageyama is scowling at the camera, that frowny expression that happens when he’s confused about what’s happening, the one that never fails to make Atsumu’s heart clench with warmth, even though it’s an objectively terrifying face, according to Inunaki; and Hoshiumi is a blur of white and blue behind them, with his arms on Kageyama’s shoulders, presumably for leverage, and the only things in focus being his weird bird eyes. Honestly, the overall effect is completely terrifying, but Atsumu loves it anyway.

He switches to his messages, taps on the top one, and types something that is undoubtedly going to get Kageyama’s attention, grip it and keep it on Atsumu forever (except when needed for volleyball; Atsumu also loves volleyball enough to share Kageyama’s attention with it. _Sometimes_ ), and absolutely stun him with Atsumu’s excellent personality: _hey_

> **FROM tobio-kun:** hello atsumu-san
> 
> **TO tobio-kun:** ya wanna hear abt the weirdest fuckin thing i’ve seen today
> 
> **FROM tobio-kun:** hoshiumi-san says to ask if it has anything to do with seagulls again

Atsumu lets out an incredulous laugh. Does Kageyama really text him by democracy? That’s kind of cute. Also vaguely alarming, considering how many selfies Atsumu sends him. Those are limited edition goods, Tobio-kun, c’mon.

> **TO tobio-kun:** are they all reading your texts?????
> 
> **FROM tobio-kun:** yes
> 
> **FROM tobio-kun:** hoshiumi-san instilled this policy after the aquarium incident

Atsumu frowns at the reminder. What had meant to be an outing for Atsumu and Kageyama turned into an outing for Atsumu, Kageyama and _the entire rest of the Adlers_ , including their very confused nutritionist, because apparently Kageyama assumes all invitations issued to him are just group invites for which he is the envoy. All right, maybe birdbrain has a point.

> **TO tobio-kun:** ok fair

He starts typing _anyway guess who is making eyes at_ when suddenly his vision is obscured by a mess of orange curls.

“Are you texting Bakageyama?” Hinata asks excitedly.

“Ooh, ooh! Is he with Ushiwaka? Can you tell him I’m going to beat him?” Bokuto chimes in, further obscuring Atsumu’s vision, this time with the same colour scheme as a zebra.

Atsumu sighs, and glances skywards for strength. As he does, he catches sight of Osamu sneaking a glance at Sakusa, and Sakusa’s cheeks still a light pink, and that does it. What the fuck. He has to flirt with his favourite setter via democracy, apparently – he’s pretty sure Bokuto is actually trying to type on his phone now, what the fuck – and his brother gets to have something out of a fucking chick flick with Atsumu’s least personable teammate? Insanity. Absolute insanity.

Atsumu does _not_ deserve this.

**3.**

It’s a normal day during the season when Osamu shows up bearing onigiri and smiles.

The team gives him a warm welcome – Meian grins at him, the kind of smile that made a younger Atsumu flustered before his high school fascination with Kageyama got reignited with a burning fervour; Inunaki whoops, waving, while Thomas and Barnes smile and thank him politely; Hinata and Bokuto immediately start loudly cheering, with Bokuto chanting _Myaa-saam_ at increasing volume; Atsumu flips him off, and grins when Osamu flips him off right back; and Sakusa quirks his lips up at the side in an expression that’s somewhere between a smile and a smirk, and makes Osamu grin, which, wow, Atsumu seriously needs them to work out what the fuck is going on there, because that’s more amenability he’s seen from Sakusa than ever before.

The problems occur when the food is all gone, and they need to put away the folding tables that the coaches pulled out for the purpose of housing all the food Osamu brought. It had turned into an impromptu team bonding exercise, with the defense coach fetching out some bottles of Pocari Sweat from his office, Barnes pulling out some mochi out of who the fuck knows where, and Inunaki splitting open his massive stock of snacks he keeps in his locker.

The problem is that these folding tables are easier to put out than to put away, and one in particular won’t budge, even after two coaches and _multiple_ volleyball players take a crack at it.

“Oh, hang on, let me,” Osamu says. His shirt is short sleeved, and tight, but Atsumu imagines he’d be rolling up his sleeves if he had them, such is the breezy confidence with which he made his offer. “These tables are always hassles, one of the local art stores that participates in the neighbourhood fundraising fair uses these and there’s a trick to it, like – ”

He kicks the legs and seizes the surface area of the table in one fluid motion, his shoulder bearing the weight of it all for a moment as he does some weird flexing movement – and then the table is folding closed with a sharp snap. Osamu gives them all a grin, looking satisfied.

Atsumu’s team, however, are all nightmares, and are staring at him with way too much awe. It was a _table_ , for fuck’s sake.

Meian grins at him again, the coaches say thank you, and Barnes gives him a thumbs up. Thomas and Shion chorus a _thank you_ which, not gonna lie, makes Atsumu laugh, especially with how surprised they look to harmonise on it; Bokuto and Hinata stare at Osamu in barefaced admiration, both of them going _wow_.

Worst of all, however, is what emerges from Sakusa’s mouth.

“I want him to fold me in half,” he murmurs. To his credit, he seems like he’s saying it more to himself than anyone else. On the other hand, he still _said it out loud_. About Atsumu’s _brother_. In _public_.

Atsumu takes back any shit he ever yelled at Suna in the Inarizaki group chat about them being the worst team ever because Suna stole all his ramune candy or whatever; those fuckers seem like _saints_ considering what shit MSBY is putting him through. Fucking hell.

“Are you kidding me,” Atsumu says. It’s not a question. He needs it to not be a question, because then Sakusa could say no, just to reiterate his point further, and then Atsumu has to go through this _twice_.

Sakusa doesn’t even look embarrassed. He’s still got his eyes trained on Osamu – more specifically on Osamu’s arms – and, because the world hates Atsumu, Osamu meets his eyes. He clearly notices where Sakusa is staring, because he smirks.

Atsumu watches in some appalling amalgamation of horror and incredulity as Sakusa _blushes_. So Atsumu hearing him say those ridiculous words out loud isn’t embarrassing, but Osamu catching Sakusa checking him out _is?_

What the fuck.

Atsumu is so incredibly done with all of them, holy shit.

**4.**

“They’re driving me nuts,” Atsumu complains. They’re at the Tokyo Olympics, which should be fun and exciting, and instead, Atsumu is suffering because of his goddamn brother and Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi.

“I still don’t think they’re even sure if they’re dating? But Sakusa came to practice smelling like ‘Samu’s shampoo, which is insane because until like three weeks ago, ‘Samu didn’t use anythin’ other than that three-in-one shit, where your body wash is the same as your shampoo and conditioner, and I don’t know if it’s a lucky coincidence, or if ‘Samu _changed_ his showering habits _because_ of Sakusa, which, like, is _such_ dating behaviour, _why are they not clear about whether they’re dating._ They’re killing me, Tobio-kun, absolutely killing me,” Atsumu says in what he would describe as an impassioned plea for the world to make sense and Suna and Aran would probably call a tirade if they were listening – as they called it last night, when they actually did have to listen – because they are terrible best friends and Atsumu wants a refund.

“Hm,” is all Kageyama says, chewing his rice thoughtfully. His eyes are intent on Atsumu, though, so Atsumu’ll take it.

“Sakusa is probably the worst teammate ever,” Atsumu grouses. “Maybe even worse than that bastard war criminal Suna.”

At this, Kageyama blinks.

“Sakusa-san is very polite, I think,” he says, after swallowing his food, because he has very good manners. Atsumu thinks he could take Kageyama home to his parents and probably impress his mother, because Kageyama is always very polite, except when he is rude by accident. Sakusa is often rude on purpose, but Atsumu supposes that’s a moot point for Osamu right now, if they’re not even _dating_ , what the fuck, ‘Samu, get your shit together.

“Tobio-kun!” Atsumu cries out. “Did you not hear me? Worse than the war criminal!”

Kageyama frowns, his brow furrowing. He glances over to the corner, where Suna is talking to Komori – probably inducting him into his devilry, Atsumu thinks resignedly – then turns back to Atsumu, tilting his head in confusion.

“What war was Suna-san in?” he asks earnestly.

Atsumu wants to kiss him so bad it makes him feel stupid.

“The one against _me_ ,” Atsumu tells him.

Kageyama stares at him for a long moment. Then:

“I am going to go get some yoghurt. Would you like some?” he asks, completely ignoring Atsumu’s extremely valid and aggrieved concerns. Unbelievable.

Still, something in Atsumu’s chest does a funny little skip at the sweet directness of the offer, and so he sighs instead of scowls.

“Yes please,” he grumbles, slumping lower in his seat. Kageyama nods, smiles at him – that small one, a fleeting thing, never lasts long, directed at Atsumu more often than not, feels like the sun setting in his chest, filling all of his horizons with an endless warmth – and stands, pushing back his chair and heading over to the vending machines.

Atsumu glances around – he can see Iwaizumi and Yaku sharing a table over in the corner, laughing about something (Atsumu’s bet is on the expression Kageyama’s senpai, Oikawa, is making as Ushijima quite earnestly tries to show him some youtube video Hoshiumi undoubtedly sent the Adlers group chat earlier), and he can _hear_ Bokuto, even if he can’t see him. He spots him moments later, talking to Kiryuu and showing him something on his phone. Atsumu can’t tell what they are, but he’s willing to bet it’s the designs Azumane was making last week that Bokuto went absolutely wild over, making everyone on the team _ooh_ and _ahh_ over them. To be fair, they were worth fawning over, but it never fails to amuse Atsumu to see how passionate Bokuto gets about encouraging the talents of the people he cares about, especially when he also wants to smooch them senseless.

Then again, Atsumu thinks, eyeing Bokuto and Kiryuu’s positions around the table with a little more scrutiny, maybe Azumane Asahi isn’t the _only_ one Bokuto wouldn’t mind smooching senseless.

Atsumu can’t decide if he should be thinking _good for them_ or bemoaning the fact of more chaos of teammates being horny in his vicinity, so he just sighs gustily once more.

“Here you go,” Kageyama says, handing Atsumu a yoghurt with a smile.

Literally.

There’s a smile on Kageyama’s face, a tentative thing, but there’s also a fairly uneven smile messily drawn on the yoghurt container. Atsumu looks up, open-mouthed.

“Hinata always used to do it to Yamaguchi when he was getting frustrated at the team,” Kageyama says, shrugging a little. The tips of his ears are a bit pink, and he scowls. “It’s silly.”

“It’s cute,” Atsumu says, grinning a little at the way Kageyama’s ears go pinker. Kageyama Tobio can be brusque, harsh, oblivious – a thousand little things that can rub some people the wrong way. But he’s earnest and more perceptive than people give him credit for, and Atsumu’ll never get tired of the way some simple honest praise from Atsumu can make his eyes go wide and pleased.

“By the way,” Kageyama says, slurping on his yoghurt, “I think Sakusa-san is dating your brother.”

Atsumu chokes on his yoghurt.

“What?” he demands. “Huh? Where’d you hear that?” Most importantly, why hadn’t _Atsumu_ been the first to know?

“He was standing beside the vending machine,” Kageyama says with a shrug. “With Hinata. Hinata was telling him he was very happy for him, congratulations, all that stuff.”

For a moment, Atsumu pauses in his absorbing of all of this to marvel at Kageyama’s reading of implicit social cues.

“And then Sakusa-san said ‘I feel terrible when he talks to me. What happens if I call him my boyfriend and throw up?’” Kageyama continues, and Atsumu retracts his statement. “Then Hinata laughed and was like, ‘butterflies are normal, Omi-san! That’s how I feel when Kindaichi wants to hold my hand!’ and then I stopped listening because clearly they weren’t going to talk about volleyball, and I didn’t want the yoghurt to get too warm.”

Atsumu can’t decide if he wants to kiss Kageyama or laugh helplessly into his yoghurt. Instead, he makes a strangled noise, half-exasperation, half-fondness, and brushes his knuckles against Kageyama’s.

“Will ya be my alibi if I kill ‘Samu?” he asks.

Kageyama pauses, seems to think about this for a second. “Sure,” he says. “Can we practice some more volleyball first?”

 _Never change, Tobio-kun_ , Atsumu thinks as the laugh is startled out of him. _Never change._

“Yeah, all right,” Atsumu says, and can’t help the grin that crawls across his face when Kageyama makes a contented noise into his yoghurt.

**5.**

Not much changes now that they’re officially dating, really, except that Atsumu sees Osamu around the dorms a lot more, and sometimes when he goes to Onigiri Miya, he finds Sakusa there already, perched in the back more often than not, ostensibly reading a book but usually just waiting for Osamu to finish working, his eyes following him around the store.

It’s kind of cute, Atsumu can admit grudgingly, but only to himself, where nobody else can hear it.

Well. One time he tells Kageyama, on one of their late night calls, and Kageyama makes a thoughtful noise.

“That’s nice for them,” he says, and Atsumu thinks: _huh. It is, isn’t it?_

That’s not to say it’s all smooth sailing from there. They still make Atsumu want to throw volleyballs at their heads, especially when they’re flirting on twitter. Suna says that Atsumu has absolutely no room to talk, considering the tweets he makes about Kageyama, but Atsumu disagrees. His tweets are, at least, _vague_. They are _subtweets_. There’s something classy about horny subtweeting, he maintains, which doesn’t apply to actual exchanges on the timeline where they’re teasing each other back and forth about movie tastes.

Atsumu has always known Osamu falls for jump scares in horror movies. He probably could have survived without knowing that Osamu now uses Sakusa as a human shield when watching them, and buries his face in Sakusa’s arm rather than watch the screen.

He comes into the locker room one day to an unusual sound: Sakusa raising his voice.

Sakusa is very frequently exasperated, but he normally expresses this in a flat tone, or in a grumbling mutter. This, on the other hand, sounds like an announcement.

“That’s it,” Sakusa says. “I am blocking him.”

“Omi-san, don’t, it’s funny,” Hinata says, laughing.

“It’s appalling,” Sakusa retorts.

“Blocking who?” Atsumu asks.

“Your brother,” Bokuto says, then frowns. “You before? Maybe both?”

“Both,” Sakusa says firmly, scowling at Atsumu with a vehemence that Atsumu feels is frankly unfair considering all he has done today is breathed.

“What’ve I done?” he demands, cocking his hip.

Sakusa’s expression grows incredulous. “Does _I dream of him draining me like a carton of yoghurt_ sound familiar?” he quotes.

Oh. Oh, yeah. He did tweet that about Kageyama this morning, didn’t he? Still. At least he didn’t _tag_ him.

“That was classy,” he says, and ignores the way Bokuto chokes on laughter behind him.

“What did ‘Samu do?” he barrels on.

“He keeps sending me horrendous emojis,” Sakusa says. “They are terrible. He calls garlics onions and uses them instead of eyes in some of his horrifying emoji combinations. He had an eye mask made with one of the emoji combinations made as the decal. Every day I suffer.”

The worst part, Atsumu thinks, is how undeniably fond Sakusa sounds beneath the exasperation. Like he’s helplessly endeared despite himself.

“Yeah, block him,” Atsumu advises. Hinata lets out a squawking noise at Sakusa’s side. “Save us from seeing you two flirt all day.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes so hard that Atsumu absently worries about him spraining an eyeball.

“Again, _drain you like a carton of yoghurt_ ,” he says incredulously. “What the fuck does that even _mean?_ No, don’t explain,” he says, putting a hand up when Atsumu opens his mouth. “I don’t want to know. I prefer to live a life avoiding trauma.”

Atsumu stares at him, open-mouthed. The absolute cheek of him. As if he and Osamu haven’t been tormenting Atsumu for months. What the actual fuck. Where does he get off?

Un-fucking-believable. Atsumu barely resists bashing his head against his locker.

**+1.**

“Hey,” Osamu says, nudging Atsumu in the side. They’re watching some shitty movie about robots in space, munching on takoyaki and fatty tuna onigiri that Osamu made, and relaxing into Atsumu’s couch. It’s a pretty good lazy Friday night. Atsumu’s kind of missed nights like these since he moved out of the MSBY dorms, and he’s missed nights like this with Osamu for even longer, a natural side effect of having someone at your side your entire life until suddenly they weren’t, even if they never went too far.

“Can I talk to ya about somethin’?” Osamu continues, and Atsumu makes an agreeable noise into his onigiri. God, Osamu’s cooking is good. Like, Atsumu _knows_ , and has always known, really, but sometimes he gets hit by it all over again. His brother’s _really_ fucking good at what he does, and he loves doing it. Atsumu can respect that.

Osamu waits for a beat, so Atsumu turns to look at him. It’s not like it matters that much to miss any of the nonsense explosions on screen, but he still opens his mouth – after chewing and swallowing, okay, he’s not an _animal_ … and he knows Osamu will whack him with a pillow if he sprays rice or tuna over him – to complain about missing the action.

Osamu beats him to the punch.

“I’m gonna ask Kiyoomi to marry me,” he says casually, as if it isn’t the biggest thing he’s said since telling Atsumu he was quitting volleyball. Maybe even bigger. Fuck. Atsumu’s mouth is hanging open now, legitimately, not just being caught off-guard midway through forming words. Osamu’s eyes meet Atsumu’s, and Atsumu swallows at the sight of his eyes. Intent. Steady. Sure of himself, the same way he was when he told Atsumu he was quitting – the same way he was when he told Atsumu he could beat the Schweiden Adlers, and he’d never needed Osamu to do it, but Osamu would be right there cheering him on anyway – the same way he was when he dragged Atsumu with him to stare a bank in the eyes and inform them he wanted a loan to start his own onigiri restaurant.

It’s the kind of face that always means _change_ , and Atsumu’s always evolving on the court, but he’s never been that great with change when it comes to what matters most. But that doesn’t matter, he thinks, looking at Osamu. His twin’s always made the right choice, and Atsumu’ll have his back, always.

The next words Osamu says, though, punch the air out of Atsumu’s lungs.

“If he says yes, will you be my best man?” he asks quietly.

Atsumu almost bursts into tears right then and there. He _does_ tear up, what the fuck, ‘Samu, how could you do this to him, his skin is going to be splotchy and red before bed, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –

He must have started saying it out loud, because Osamu snorts, whacking him lightly with a pillow. His eyes are crinkling at the corners, but his gaze is still locked on Atsumu. Intent. Waiting.

As if Atsumu could ever say anything but yes.

“Obviously,” he says, and it’s not escaping him that his voice is trembling a little, but, like, _fuck_. It’s not every day your brother wants to marry someone, and asks you to have his back the whole time, holy fuck. “Can’t let you do it by yourself, can I? Stupid ‘Samu. You’d probably show up in a tight shirt and sweatpants instead of a suit,” he says with a shaky laugh.

“Probably,” Osamu says, grinning, but his eyes are full of relief. Laughter. “Anyway,” he says, his grin turning into a smirk, “Kiyoomi _likes_ me in a tight shirt and sweats.”

“Gross,” Atsumu says automatically, but he’s grinning right back. “Always said he had terrible taste.”

“So does he,” Osamu muses. His eyes are soft, though, the way they so often are when he’s talking about his boyfriend – soon-to-be _fiancé_ , soon-to-be _husband_ , because Atsumu has seen the way his teammate looks at Osamu, has watched it every day for the last few years, and there is absolutely no doubt in his mind that Sakusa Kiyoomi wants to marry his brother – even when they’re talking about Sakusa telling Osamu he’s impossible, or a menace, or any of his favourite words for him, always laced with a fond exasperation that makes Atsumu feel itchy, reawakening the desire to go find Kageyama and pull him into a searing kiss that always lives just beneath his skin.

“Yeah, well, this time he’s right,” Atsumu says, but he grins at Osamu. His eyes are still a little watery, because, fuck, he’s emotional, all right? Sue him. “Hey,” he says, a little quieter.

Osamu glances up, immediately hearing the difference in his voice. “Yeah?”

“He’s gonna say yes,” Atsumu says. “If he doesn’t, he’d be a fuckin’ moron like those ones you’re always teasing him about in the shitty rom-coms you always make people watch, and we know he’d never wanna be that.” Atsumu takes a breath, then beams again, his cheeks hurting a little from how wide he’s smiling. “He’s gonna say yes, and then we’re gonna plan the most fuckin’ incredible wedding for ya, and you’re gonna look like the second most handsome fucker in the world because I’m gonna find you the world’s best fuckin’ suit – maybe even a _tux_ – and you’re gonna marry the fuck outta Omi-kun, and then you guys are gonna go on a honeymoon and probably make me throw up with how cute yer pictures will be when ya get back, and you’re gonna be happy for the rest of yer lives, and _I’m_ gonna be there the whole time – except for the honeymoon, you’re on your own there, I ain’t going anywhere near you two for at least two weeks after you get hitched, I don’t want to be grossed out for life – ‘cuz I’m the best brother ever, and it’s gonna be fuckin’ _amazin’_.”

Osamu stares at him, open-mouthed, and then, incredibly, his eyes start to shine. Like he’s tearing up. Holy shit. Atsumu’s a fucking god. He has maybe brought _‘Samu_ to tears. God, he can’t wait until ‘Samu hears his best man speech at the wedding. He’s gonna make those fuckers cry _so hard_. It’ll be glorious.

“Did I get an upgrade from third most handsome?” Osamu asks, his voice a little trembly, even as it’s full of warmth.

Atsumu shrugs. “Well, for yer wedding, I think I can let ya have my place. Outta pity, y’know,” he says. Kageyama’s top spot is unshakeable, as far as Atsumu’s concerned, but he’s generous. He’ll let Osamu shine on his big day. Sakusa’s staying lower than Atsumu, though.

“Outta pity,” Osamu echoes agreeably. There’s a massive explosion from the television screen, but Osamu doesn’t look at it at all. Instead, he reaches forward and tugs Atsumu into his arms, and Atsumu sinks into his hug without a single second of hesitation.

“Thanks,” Osamu murmurs into his ear, muffled by Atsumu’s hoodie. Atsumu hears him regardless.

“Don’t be such a fuckin’ sap,” Atsumu says in return, ignoring how he feels like tearing up again. He’s just so _happy_ , what the fuck. What the fuck.

“So how’re you gonna ask him?” Atsumu asks, once they separate.

Osamu’s eyes light up. “All right, so, he’s not huge on most animals, yeah? But he _really_ likes dogs…”

Atsumu pulls his legs onto the couch, folding them up towards himself and slotting his chin over his knees as he listens. They spend the rest of the night like that, going back and forth over Osamu’s plan, and brainstorming ways to pull it off.

It kind of feels like back in high school, when they’d fuck around together for hours to crib together some strategy after watching some recorded games. This time, though, they’re planning something even more important.

It doesn’t really matter that Osamu’s following his own path now, walking to the beat of his own drum. It doesn’t even matter that Osamu and Sakusa have made Atsumu bang his forehead against the table at least five times in his life.

They’re gonna spend the rest of their lives together, Atsumu’s sure of it, and he’ll be right there for every moment of it.

He wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kurokenns)
> 
> the twitter post for this fic can be found [here!](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/status/1361199963640766464?s=21) thank u iris for letting me use your gorgeous art for the promo graphic!!! 
> 
> if atsumu’s horrifying thirst tweet seems familiar, i snagged it from the [thread](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/status/1353573362761515011?s=21) i made the other week of atsukage as children’s book style titles bc sakusa would have killed me if i kept making new ones to torment the world with
> 
> special shout out to kristin (& yuni, the two of them came up with it!!! also wendy, iris, sarah, probably half the omigiri server haha for helping the chaos develop further) for the hc about osamu using three in one body wash/shampoo/conditioner – kris has some arts about omigiri's battles against osamu's skin/haircare routine [here](https://twitter.com/pasupare/status/1349417678205808652?s=20) and [here](https://twitter.com/pasupare/status/1352680165646721024?s=20)!
> 
> i wrote this mostly out of love for omigiri and the miya twins, but also dearly missing writing clownery & having a little bit of a writing stall with everything that's been going on the last month and a bit, so i'm just really stoked to have smashed it out before valentines was over somewhere haha, because i think it helped me a lot to achieve a goal! i really hope you guys enjoyed it too <3


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